by Aliza, who wrote this the other day for us, the day of the lunar eclipse:
That this could be a Full Moon of self-loathing and I want to encourage you not to fall into the pit and you're gonna want to fall into the pit and never get out, just stay there because that's where you belong, in the pit, in the wilderness, in hell. All the voices in your head: it'll never get any better it'll never get any better it'll never get any better and it is what it is.
And yet (here comes the counterpoint) the divine (define it how you wish, if you wish, sometimes I see a giraffe) never doesn't know who you are and in this take some solace even while you smash it against the wall, screaming to no one there: thanks for nothing. You're in the pit, in the wilderness, in hell, you've set up a bed there and a microwave and you've stocked the fridge with the snacks of self-loathing and you are not alone. Oh great. Just what you wanted, a witness.
I woke up this morning with my own pain feeling like a sacrifice and then remembering what I do, what I'm supposed to do here, in this life, in this moment, which is talk to you, and I thought of my clients of the past week and the past month and the past year and how scared they are and how angry they are and how in love they are and how we have ONE MORE eclipse of this cycle, the last of the summer and the last of Cancer (home) and Capricorn (work). We don't know where we belong, we don't know what to do, and we're never not homeless.
The advice. I got some.
My advice for today (and tomorrow and this month and these days) is praise. Praise the dead you miss and praise death. Praise the sickness you have and the cure you don't. Praise your face no matter how wrong. Praise how scared you are and how sad you are and how helpless you feel and are. We are.
I don't know what else to tell you. Full Moons are hard, eclipses are hard. I just wanted to say hello. This full moon is wrapped up in Chiron and Mars and Jupiter and Pluto and if you get through the next 24 hours intact, you win. Another day.
So that's my advice for the eclipse: praise the wall. Praise the ceiling. Praise the books you buy and never read. Praise the paint chip and the rotting fruit and the unpaid bills and the paid bills. Praise your ears which hear the upset noise of daily life and your eyes which cry until they burn for no reason. Praise your body in its horrifying betrayal and praise the confusion of our leaders and praise your family who destroyed you and your lover who didn't love you, not even a little, and they never could, and praise every scar, every sticking your neck out, every hope. Praise the failure you can't forget. We are so human.
One card. I drew one card. The Star.
xoxo
That this could be a Full Moon of self-loathing and I want to encourage you not to fall into the pit and you're gonna want to fall into the pit and never get out, just stay there because that's where you belong, in the pit, in the wilderness, in hell. All the voices in your head: it'll never get any better it'll never get any better it'll never get any better and it is what it is.
And yet (here comes the counterpoint) the divine (define it how you wish, if you wish, sometimes I see a giraffe) never doesn't know who you are and in this take some solace even while you smash it against the wall, screaming to no one there: thanks for nothing. You're in the pit, in the wilderness, in hell, you've set up a bed there and a microwave and you've stocked the fridge with the snacks of self-loathing and you are not alone. Oh great. Just what you wanted, a witness.
I woke up this morning with my own pain feeling like a sacrifice and then remembering what I do, what I'm supposed to do here, in this life, in this moment, which is talk to you, and I thought of my clients of the past week and the past month and the past year and how scared they are and how angry they are and how in love they are and how we have ONE MORE eclipse of this cycle, the last of the summer and the last of Cancer (home) and Capricorn (work). We don't know where we belong, we don't know what to do, and we're never not homeless.
The advice. I got some.
My advice for today (and tomorrow and this month and these days) is praise. Praise the dead you miss and praise death. Praise the sickness you have and the cure you don't. Praise your face no matter how wrong. Praise how scared you are and how sad you are and how helpless you feel and are. We are.
I don't know what else to tell you. Full Moons are hard, eclipses are hard. I just wanted to say hello. This full moon is wrapped up in Chiron and Mars and Jupiter and Pluto and if you get through the next 24 hours intact, you win. Another day.
So that's my advice for the eclipse: praise the wall. Praise the ceiling. Praise the books you buy and never read. Praise the paint chip and the rotting fruit and the unpaid bills and the paid bills. Praise your ears which hear the upset noise of daily life and your eyes which cry until they burn for no reason. Praise your body in its horrifying betrayal and praise the confusion of our leaders and praise your family who destroyed you and your lover who didn't love you, not even a little, and they never could, and praise every scar, every sticking your neck out, every hope. Praise the failure you can't forget. We are so human.
One card. I drew one card. The Star.
xoxo
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